Origins: CJ Parsons
by Duffy1972
Summary: MH FanFic #1: This is a short story and period piece about C.J. Parsons' family of origin and the circumstances of her birth told in a series of vignettes. Most characters are original, but some are borrowed for fun.
1. Chapter 1

Cynthia Glass was born in 1920, the year the 19th amendment to the U.S. Constitution was ratified, which gave women the right to vote, and her younger brother Robert was born in 1922. Her father Jacob owned a gas and service station in Houston, Texas. Jacob's wife Deborah stayed at home and reared their two children while being a seamstress on the side. Both were dutiful savers, ferreting money away for theirs and their children's futures. Jacob had gotten in on the ground floor of the automobile craze in the Roaring Twenties and had done quite well for himself even through 1929, when the market crashed. The gas and service station industry remained only slightly wounded during the Depression, and the Glass family did well, especially after Deborah started working part time at the local drug store. People needed gas, they needed their cars fixed, and they needed their prescription medications.

The Great Depression wasn't the most difficult obstacle for Jacob and Deborah Glass. Both were second generation German Jewish immigrants living in Texas, who had been forced to Anglicize their last name from Glas to Glass after World War I because of the national resentment against Germans. They attended temple services at a small local synagogue, not because they were particularly religious or observant, but because they could socialize in their own minority peer group. And a minority it was, since there were only around 15,000 Jews in the whole state of Texas in 1899 at the most recent count. Their synagogue was a basement of a friend's house. So, these experiences, along with the Great Depression, made Deborah and Jacob Glass resilient, ambitious, and determined people.

Despite being pregnant and busy with more than enough sewing jobs, Deborah was excited to be casting her first vote for President in 1920. Anxiety was high in the Glass household with work and pregnancy, but adding to this anxiety was that Deborah did not support the same candidate as her husband, who, while fairly liberated for his time, could still be a man of the old world on occasion. Deborah was an ardent supporter of Eugene Debs, the socialist candidate. She supported him for his stance on unions, and work protections for women and children, while Jacob supported Harding for his desire to decrease the income tax and federal spending. There were more than a few heated arguments in the Glass household in the months leading up to that November election. Jacob would call Deborah a "dreamer" who led with her emotions, and she would call him a "cold-hearted capitalist." By November, Jacob's candidate had earned the presidency and all he had to say to Deborah was, "Don't worry. This 'cold-hearted capitalist' won't gloat."

A few weeks later, Deborah delivered their first child, Cynthia Alice Glass, on December 1, 1920. She gave her first child the name Cynthia after an Elizabethan satirical play she had read by Ben Johnson called _Cynthia's Revels_. Cynthia had been another name for the goddess Diana in that story, but she preferred the former name to the latter one. Deborah chose to give her the middle name Alice after her favorite suffragette, Alice Paul.

The most important thing to Deborah and Jacob Glass was that their children received the best education they could. Over the next 18 years, they lived frugally and saved money for both of their children's education. Deborah was adamant that, like her brother, Cynthia should go to college, while Jacob found the prospect dubious at best, but nevertheless, supported his wife's wishes.

In 1932, the political climate in the Glass household changed dramatically after Hoover's disastrous presidency. Jacob had voted for Hoover as well, much to Deborah's chagrin, who voted for Smith. Jacob's pride at the Hoover win was short-lived after the market crashed when he began to see so much suffering around him. Finally, when Cynthia was 12, the Glass household was on the same page. Everyone wanted Franklin Roosevelt for President. Cynthia's parents were working a lot of extra hours to make it through the economy, but both found time to campaign for FDR.

Cynthia was mainly preoccupied with school, and the pressure to get perfect grades was sky high. A lot of her poorer classmates had had to drop out due to obligations at home. Some of them had been abandoned by their fathers and had to help raise siblings. Others had to leave to go find work in California. Cynthia knew she was fortunate and wanted to appreciate that fortune by doing well and not squandering her blessings and talents. At an early age, she knew she wanted to be a doctor. She saw that many needed doctors but couldn't afford them. She was a sensitive, "dreamer" type, like her mother, but this aspect of her personality became less idealistic and more realistic as a result of her experiences in college, and then medical school.

In 1938, Cynthia went to school on a full scholarship near home at the University of Houston. There were a lot of women at the University at that time, but most were studying education to go into teaching. She was only one of two women in her program studying biology, biochemistry, chemistry, and her pre-med core. Cynthia had experienced discrimination growing up Jewish in Texas during the Great Depression, but that discrimination was never as bad as when she was in the sciences as a woman in college. It was clear that the men either didn't want her there at all or pressured her for dates all the time. She was asked out frequently as she was a shapely, raven-haired young woman with deep brown eyes. Even a couple of professors made advances at her. But, she was single-minded in her pursuit of an education. It was easy to focus and to avoid the pressures at school by living at home during her undergraduate education. She loved her parents and the open-mindedness of their household and there was always a quiet place to study, especially while her brother was still in high school. It couldn't have been a more ideal situation.

Cynthia graduated top of her class, and she enrolled at Baylor College of Medicine in 1942. She immediately met resistance because administrators and professors were pressuring female students to either become nurses or pediatricians, but Cynthia wanted to study internal medicine, and work in a hospital and eventually have her own practice.

"Miss Glass, don't you think pediatrics would be a better fit, than internal medicine?" her bespectacled male admissions advisor asked.

"Why would I think that?" she said in the saucy manner she had inherited from her proto-feminist mother.

"Well, women are just excellently suited for the care of children," the man replied.

"Oh, are they?"

"Yes. Or wouldn't you prefer nursing even more? It's not as demanding of a program and if you get married, you won't be leaving such a prestigious career behind," he said.

"Listen, I did not graduate at the top of my class at the University of Houston so I could go into nursing. I want to be a doctor and that's what I came to Baylor for. My tuition is covered and I think that I should be able to study what I want and become what I want….And _IF_ I get married, whether or not I leave any career behind is none of your business," she replied, completely disgusted. _If only her mother could hear this._

"Suit yourself. But it's going to be a hard row to hoe," he said with a sigh.

"Why don't you let me worry about that?" she responded, as he filled out the requisite paperwork for her degree plan.

The male students at Baylor were a little more open-minded and accepting of Cynthia's presence, primarily because she had made it in as one of the few women in the medical school. This fact alone had earned her a modicum of respect and less harassment than at the University of Houston. There were still those that either wanted to bed or marry her, or both. She did decide to live on campus despite these pressures, thinking it more convenient for studying late at the medical library and working in the lab. She roomed with another female medical student who was one that _wanted _to study pediatrics. Her name was Jill Sanford and she was an equally diligent student. They studied together often. They ran interference for each other when the male students harassed either one. They eventually became close friends.

About three years into medical school, Jill fell in love with a fellow student who was also going to be a doctor.

"Are you going to finish your degree?" Cynthia asked.

"I don't know," Jill replied.

"You've come this far. It can't hurt to finish."

"We're getting married in 6 months and someone has to plan the wedding," Jill said.

"What about your mother or sister? Can't they plan it while you focus on your studies?" The idealist in Cynthia was concerned that her friend would give up on her dreams – the dreams that were made possible for women who made sacrifices before her.

"My mother and sister have different ideas about weddings and it would be a disaster if they planned it, and I'd have to step in and help anyway."

"I just can't believe you'd go this far and quit," Cynthia said in a woebegone manner.

"I can't believe you just can't be happy for me," Jill shot back.

"I am. I just think you're this close to finishing school and I think you should," Cynthia replied.

"It doesn't matter what you think. I love James, and I'm not getting any younger. I think I'd really just like to marry him and have children and have a simpler life. It's been a constant uphill battle and I'm tired," Jill replied.

"All the more reason to stick to it," Cynthia rebutted.

"Maybe for you," Jill said as she crossed her arms.

Cynthia took her friend's body language to mean that the discussion was over. "Well, I'm happy you've found someone you love. I'll be here if you need any help."

Jill uncrossed her arms and took a more relaxed pose, "Thanks. I wish I could be as single-minded as you. I know you will go far. If you need any help or support, I'll always be there for you too."

"Thanks," Cynthia said, and the two hugged.

Jill dropped out of medical school and moved back home to plan her wedding. Cynthia had their room to herself for the rest of her training at Baylor. It was lonely at times, but it was also nice to have a room of one's own.

Cynthia started her residency at Hermann Hospital on the Texas Medical Center campus in 1946. She was the only female in her residency cohort. It seemed to be the pattern that she started out with more female classmates in undergraduate than ended up with at the end of her training. She had heard about the dreaded "MRS. Degree" from a variety of sources. She had her nose so thoroughly planted in her books most of the time, that she didn't notice many of the men around her, or even the "disappearing" women who quit to get married. At Hermann Hospital, she was finally "out in the world," and feeling a part of it, instead of in what she realized was the artificial reality of college. There were real, practical experiences to be gained, real people who needed her, and colleagues that genuinely looked to her for her opinions. It was an exciting time for her and it shone all over her face.


	2. Chapter 2

One day, while Cynthia was eating in the hospital cafeteria, a man, who looked to be around thirty, walked up to her.

"Mind if I sit with you?" the man asked. He had brown hair with some early grey, blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, which Cynthia found odd since facial hair was not in fashion for men at the time.

"Sure," she replied.

He extended his hand, "Hi. My name is Roger Parsons."

She shook his hand, "Cynthia Glass."

"Cynthia's a nice name," he said awkwardly.

"Thanks," she answered suspiciously.

"I can see by your lab coat and name tag that you are a resident-in-training. How far into your residency are you?"

"Just under a year. What do you do here?" she asked.

He took a bite of his food and chewed for a bit. He swallowed and said, "I work for the legal department."

"So you're a lawyer?" Cynthia took a bite of her sandwich.

"Yes." He paused. "Well, I do a lot of paperwork. What I'd really like to do is start my own legal practice working on a variety of types of cases. What kind of doctor are you going to be?"

She was impressed he asked her about what she wanted to _do_ instead of when she planned to get married or how many children she wanted. "I'm going to be an internal medicine specialist. I'll probably work for a hospital for a while and then I'd like to start my own practice too."

"That sounds great. I don't meet many ambitious women… . Impressive," Roger replied.

_Did he really just say that? Was he serious? _"So, that's a good thing?" Cynthia replied incredulously.

"Absolutely, it's much more interesting to talk to a woman who has interests outside of marriage, family, and fashion," he reassured. "Actually, come to think of it, you're the first professional woman I've run into in this hospital in the almost two years I've worked here. It must be quite a challenge for you."

Cynthia was starting to have a hard time hiding her facial expression which was all agape. "Yes, it can be. It was more challenging when I first started out, but I feel pretty respected among my colleagues now."

"That's good," Roger said and he took a few more bites of his lunch.

Cynthia also ate if only to hide what felt like surprise plastered on her face. _Was this guy feeding her lines? _"Well, I have to get back to rounds," she said.

"Okay. It was nice talking to you," he said as he shook her hand again. "Maybe I'll see you in the cafeteria again sometime. I work on the fifth floor if you're ever in need of some legal assistance or advice."

"Thanks," she said, still stunned as she got up, and accidentally backed into another resident while looking at Roger.

"I'm sorry," she said to the resident.

The resident replied, "C'mon Glass, pay attention."

She shot him a look, but didn't reply, and then awkwardly laughed in Roger's direction, and she turned and walked away with her tray.

Roger Parsons was born in Dallas, Texas in 1916 to Peter and Joanne Parsons and was your standard W.A.S.P. In terms of the brand of Protestant, he was a United Methodist. His father was a pharmacist and his mother was a housewife. He was the youngest of three children after his middle sister Susan and his elder brother Peter Jr. He had attended Southern Methodist University for his undergraduate work as well as law school, but had moved out to Houston for more job prospects in 1944. He was able to secure a job at Hermann Hospital in 1945 shortly before the early expansion of the Texas Medical Center in 1946.

Roger was the athletic type with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, standing at just over 6 feet tall. He had a strong jaw on a handsome face with a big, winning and infectious smile. He was a man ahead of his time in his beliefs about women's equality. He had always felt that his mother was unhappy in her societally prescribed role, and that she might have found fulfillment beyond house, husband, and children. She had told him once that she entertained the desire to be an architect at one point in her youth, but the field was not open to women. This saddened him because she seemed unhappy a lot of the time and he thought the limitations placed on her sex were the reason. He hoped that he would meet an ambitious woman, and the times and culture would be amenable to her ambitions and dreams so that the woman he married would be happier than his mother.

"I just had lunch with the most amazing woman I've ever met," Roger enthused upon arriving back at the office on the fifth floor.

"Oh?" his co-worker Dean replied.

"Yes. She's going to be a doctor. An internal medicine specialist. So she's very smart," Roger gushed.

Dean replied, "Yeah, but is she a looker? Smart girls usually aren't that pretty."

Roger shot him a look of consternation, "That's terrible and terribly inaccurate. And yes, she's incredibly beautiful."

"What does she look like?" Dean leaned forward, more interested now.

"Medium length, almost black, wavy hair, with deep brown eyes," Roger said.

"And her body?" Dean cut to the chase.

"What's wrong with you?" Roger asked.

"What? Nothing. I'm a man. Aren't you, Parsons?" Dean ribbed.

"She has a nice body, I assume. She was dressed very conservatively in her lab coat, so I didn't get a good look." He paused, and said, "Why am I even talking to you?" With that, he walked back to his desk and began working.

Roger had an undisputed good character among his friends, colleagues, co-workers, and supervisors. He was a non-drinker as he came from a family very active in the temperance movement. He was compassionate, giving, and very loving and nurturing. He sent money back to his parents for his college education even though they didn't expect him to. He was highly ethical and compulsively honest, but avoided being hurtful. He also had a highly intelligent and analytical mind and liked to figure things out. He had some manual skills as well and was an amateur builder and shade tree mechanic. He was egalitarian and admired women quite a bit. Even so, if a woman was being harassed in his presence, he would step in and protect her if he had to.


	3. Chapter 3

While Cynthia was on her rounds, she met up with the grey-haired, matronly, head nurse, Sally Tompkins.

"Sally, I just met this man at lunch who said he worked for the legal department in the hospital."

"There are a few of them up there. What was his name?" Sally asked.

"He said his name was Roger Parsons," Cynthia responded.

"Oh, yes. Roger. He's a nice fella."

"Is he?"

"Yes. And pretty good looking too," Sally replied.

Cynthia coyly responded, "I hadn't noticed."

Sally wasn't buying it. "Now, I find that hard to believe. Are you interested in him?"

"No. I'm far too busy for that with my residency."

"Well, luckily you two work in the same place, making it all the more convenient," Sally suggested.

Cynthia replied, "Well, you know what they say…."

"No, what?" Sally asked.

"Don't dip your pen in the company ink," Cynthia reminded.

"I don't think that applies in this situation," Sally replied. "Did he ask you out?"

"No," Cynthia seemed disappointed.

"Did he even hint at the possibility?" Sally asked.

"He just mentioned that maybe we'd see each other in the cafeteria again sometime, but didn't _ask _me out to lunch or anything."

Cynthia busied herself with writing on her clipboard. Sally smirked while Cynthia wasn't looking, "Well, he was probably just being polite and wasn't necessarily interested in you."

Cynthia looked up, appearing somewhat hurt, "You don't think so?"

"I have no idea," Sally responded.

"He said he found ambitious women to be 'impressive' and enjoyed talking to them and seemed to understand the challenges a lone professional woman would have in this environment."

"That sounds like him."

"So, it's genuine?" Cynthia questioned.

"From what I've seen, he's an open book. What you see is what you get. I don't see him going after all the hot little numbers around here, so either what he told you is true or he likes the fellas."

"I doubt that," Cynthia continued writing on her clipboard.

Sally smirked out of view again, "How would you know? Didn't you just meet him?"

"Yes."

"Well, maybe you should be down at that cafeteria again at the same time some other day and make sure he's on the up-and-up," Sally said, turning away and smirking again.

"Maybe I will," Cynthia said defiantly.

Sally began walking away and waved with her hand as she left, "Good. Let me know how that goes."

A week later, Cynthia was eating in the hospital cafeteria again. Roger walked in and she saw him before he saw her. He seemed to be looking for someone. She waited for him to look her way and she nervously waved him over. He saw and acknowledged her and headed over to her table.

"Hi Cynthia," Roger said with a smile.

"Hi Roger," she replied.

"How are you this fine day?"

"I'm good. You?"

"Never better," Roger replied. "What have you been up to?"

"Mostly rounds. I have a challenging patient right now," Cynthia shared.

"Oh. What's the trouble?" Roger asked.

"Abdominal pain of unknown origin. Ordered a variety of tests and can't find a cause. It's been kind of frustrating."

"I see. I've often wondered….how does it feel to have people put their lives in your hands? That must be a lot of pressure." Roger seemed genuinely interested. He took some bites of his lunch.

"It is a lot of pressure. It will probably be a lot more when I'm on my own since as a resident I collaborate with a lot of people and have a Head of Residents to help. I'm okay with people depending on me in general. It's somewhat invigorating and I feel like I'm contributing to the world in a meaningful way." She ate some of her lunch.

"And you are," Roger replied.

"I'm what?" Cynthia asked.

"Contributing to the world in a meaningful way," Roger replied.

"Oh. Thanks. What have you been up to?" Cynthia asked.

"The usual. Mostly reading, writing, and researching."

"What are you reading, writing, or researching?" Cynthia asked before taking another bite of her lunch.

"Mainly information about the business side of health care, and health and non-profit law. It's quite boring. I'd rather be a trial lawyer. That's the goal I'm working toward. I plan on making 10% of my practice pro bono, and defend people who can't afford lawyers."

Cynthia's face lit up, "I plan on doing the same with my future practice!"

Roger almost choked when he saw her so enthusiastic, immediately overtaken by her growing more beautiful with the happiness and excitement on her face.

"That's great!" he exclaimed as he could barely contain himself. He calmed his tone a bit. "What inspired you to do so?"

"Probably a combination of my upbringing, but I think the Depression really motivated me. People who weren't doing as well as my family at the time were walking around untreated or dying from lack of medical care. What about you?"

"Mostly my upbringing, but I think I just have an innate sense of justice," Roger replied.

"Charity and justice are very good things," Cynthia returned.

"Yes, they are." Roger continued eating to not appear too excited about finding an intelligent, caring, and interesting woman.

Cynthia also resumed eating. Residents didn't have much time for lunch, so she looked at the clock and Roger noticed.

"Do you have to get back?"

"Yes. More rounds," she replied.

Roger stumbled on his next words. "Oh, um…." He paused. "I hope you don't think I'm being forward, but I'd love to learn more about you. Would you be interested in going out for dinner when you get some free time?"

Cynthia hesitated, torn with being worried somewhat that this was still a game, but nonetheless interested in learning more about him too. "Sure. I'm not free until Saturday."

"I'm free then too. How about 7 O'clock? We could meet somewhere or I could pick you up."

"I've heard that the Old Monterrey on West Gray is pretty good, and is one of the few Mexican restaurants around."

He liked that she was assertive enough to offer a choice of restaurant for the date. "I love Mexican food. Shall I pick you up?"

"How about if we meet there?" She offered cautiously.

"Sounds good," he replied. "7 O'clock at the Old Monterrey it is."

"Great," she replied. "I have to go now, unfortunately. I'll see you then," she said as she smiled and picked up her tray.

He stood up out of respect. "Great. Have a good day," he said, smiling that giant Parsons smile.

"Thanks. You too," she said and turned and walked away and put up her tray and left the cafeteria.

Roger sat back down with that huge smile plastered on his face and pounded once with both fists on the table with enthusiasm. A nurse at the next table looked at him with a stunned expression when he looked over at her. "Oh, um, ahem….sorry," he said as he adjusted his tie nervously and picked up his tray and left to go back to his office.


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday came, and Cynthia stood under the large, dazzling neon sign outside the Old Monterrey. She was a little early. She stood and watched people go by and into the restaurant. She had her hair parted on the left with a short section of hair going across her forehead and curling by her opposite temple. The longest parts of her hair hung in relaxed waves nearly reaching her shoulders. Her knee-length light green dress had a fitted waist. The v-neck had scalloped sides with scalloped short sleeves to match. The skirt had large red roses with green leaves while the v-neck terminated in two roses - a red one and a pink one. She wore a strand of pearls that her mother gave her and open-toed high heel shoes with a tie around the ankle.

Cynthia looked at her watch. It read 7:10. She worried if Roger had forgotten or had stood her up. The fear was short-lived. He appeared almost at that moment.

"So, sorry. I lost track of the time talking on the phone to my parents," he said.

"That's alright. Shall we go in?" Cynthia furtively glanced at Roger's attire as they walked in. He really knew how to dress. He wore a white dress shirt with a black, narrow tie, both under a knitted, large, houndstooth-patterned vest. There were horizontal black accent lines on the four vest pockets and broad, black edges where the vest buttoned together with six black buttons. Over the vest he wore a loose-fitting and open black jacket, and black, broad, pleated pants with black dress shoes.

The maître d' who greeted them asked, "Table for two?"

Roger replied, "Yes."

The man grabbed two menus and walked the pair to a corner table. Roger pulled out Cynthia's chair and pushed it under her as she sat down. Then Roger sat down and the maître d' handed them both their menus. "Thanks," Roger said.

"May I get you something to drink?"

Cynthia responded, "I'll take a sweet tea."

"Same for me," Roger said.

The maître d' smiled and said, "I'll be right back."

"How are your parents? Are they okay?" Cynthia asked.

"Oh, yes. They're fine," Roger replied. "I talk to them regularly."

"That's good," she said.

"What about you?" he asked.

"What?" she asked.

"How are your parents?"

"They're fine too. I talked to them about a week ago," she replied.

The maître d' returned with the ice teas. "Your waiter will be right with you."

"Thanks," Roger said. He continued, "What are your parents like?"

"My father is a hard worker and owned a service station when I was growing up – still does. He's really good with mechanics. My mother worked as a seamstress and at a drug store. Both of them have strong opinions and are politically active," Cynthia described.

"Oh. That's very interesting. How so?" Roger inquired.

"My father used to be a Republican and my mother was a Socialist and now they are both Democrats. In recent years, they have supported and campaigned for FDR among other major and minor Democratic candidates." She continued, "My mother has always been interested in women's rights and cared about the poor and children."

The waiter appeared at their table, "Hi, my name is Ramón, can I get you an appetizer?"

Roger replied while looking quickly over the menu, "Ummm…," he said while looking at Cynthia, "How about José's Dip?"

Cynthia replied, "Sounds good."

"Okay. We'll have some of José's Dip," Roger said, looking back at the waiter.

"Thank you, señor," said the waiter and he went back to the wait station.

"What are your parents like?" Cynthia asked Roger.

"My father is a pharmacist and my mother is a housewife. Both are really sharp people. I wouldn't say they are politically active, exactly, but they are probably more Democratic than Republican. They are Methodists that worked to prohibit alcohol in the 1920s – teetotalers. I think they both experienced the ills of alcohol growing up, but they don't talk about it."

"So do you drink?" Cynthia asked.

"No. Never touched the stuff. I like to keep my wits about me and take my sorrows sober." He continued, "You?"

"Occasionally. My family is neither Methodist, nor teetotalers," Cynthia replied.

The waiter returned, "Have you decided on what you'd like for dinner?"

Roger replied, "Oh, no. Sorry. Actually, we've just been talking and haven't looked at the menu yet. Please give us some more time."

"Okay, señor," the waiter said and then left.

"We should probably look at this menu," Roger said as he smiled at Cynthia.

"Yes," Cynthia replied as she smiled back.

Roger looked over his menu quickly, closed it, and then inquired, "So, your mother is interested in women's rights?"

"Yes, she even gave me the middle name of Alice after Alice Paul," Cynthia replied.

"Oh yes, she's wonderful," he said. "A very strong woman."

"Definitely," Cynthia replied. "Is your mother a strong woman like mine?"

"Hmmm," Roger hesitated and frowned somewhat. "I think in her own way she is. She's always there for her children and husband, but isn't so strong for herself. I've always thought that she missed out on her dreams to take care of us."

"She probably did. A lot of women do. But maybe she's satisfied with that," Cynthia replied.

"I don't really think so. She's always been a melancholic person and I've always thought it was the result of giving up on her aspirations."

"Perhaps. Or she could just be a melancholic person," Cynthia replied as she closed her menu. "Have you asked her about it?"

"Not directly. I do know she wanted to be an architect in her youth," Roger replied.

"That was a pretty big aspiration in her day."

The waiter returned. "Are you ready to order?"

Roger replied, "Yes, I'd like the Enchiladas a la Michael." The waiter looked at Roger and said, "And for the señora?"

Roger replied as he looked at Cynthia, "The señora can order for herself."

The waiter replied, "Very good, señor," and he looked at Cynthia and asked, "Señora?"

"I'll take the Grilled Redfish."

"Thank you. I'll be right back with your appetizer," the waiter said and left.

"You said your family wasn't Methodist. Are they religious?" Roger asked.

"I would not say religious in the sense of practicing a religion, but my family is Jewish. Specifically, we are Reformed Jews."

"I know that's hard to be, growing up in Texas. Well, _I_ don't personally know that, but I learned that from some of my classmates in college."

"It was challenging at times. Still is, unfortunately."

"It will change. I know it will," Roger said with a smile.

The waiter returned with the appetizer and placed it on the table with some corn tortilla chips and refreshed their ice teas.

"Do you practice Judaism today?" Roger asked.

"No. I would say that I am mainly ethnically Jewish. I prefer scientific explanations for the world around me, and I don't really care for ritual."

"You're a fascinating woman, Dr. Glass," Roger said.

Cynthia looked stunned but was silent.

"What? You act like you've never heard that before," Roger quipped.

"I don't think I have," she said, still looking stunned.

"You're strong. I mean, you'd have to be. Look at how far you've come in this day and age. You're smart. You're independent. And, yes, dare I say, you are beautiful."

Cynthia blushed and took a nervous drink of tea and gulped some down. "And you are direct and generous with compliments."

"Does it bother you?"

"I'm certainly not used to it," Cynthia replied.

"Too bad. It's all true. And my philosophy is that life is too short to not say what you mean," Roger replied.

"That's a good philosophy," Cynthia replied, not knowing what more to say.

"Cynthia, do you prefer to be called Cynthia or Cindy?" Roger asked.

"You can call me Cindy," she replied.

"Cindy it is," he said with a smile and popped a tortilla chip in his mouth.

The two ate their meals and continued talking in the warm light emanating from the candle on their table in the dimmed restaurant. They talked more deeply about their dreams for their careers, ideas about life, politics, religion, and family. For dessert, they shared a slice of tres leches cake with two forks. They stayed talking until they were the only two people left at a table in the restaurant.

Roger asked, "May I walk you back to your apartment?"

Cynthia replied, "Thank you. I'd like that."

Roger paid the bill, and escorted Cynthia out of the establishment back to her apartment on Commonwealth Street. It was around midnight. Roger placed his jacket on Cynthia's shoulders and walked beside her with his hands in his pockets. He said, "I had a great time this evening. I'd really like to see you again."

"Me too," Cynthia replied.

"How about next Saturday?" he asked.

"That will be fine," she replied.

The two reached Cynthia's apartment. Standing outside her door, she took off his jacket and handed it back to him. He slipped into the jacket. "Cindy, would you mind if I kissed you goodnight?"

"You're kind of a strange mix of broadminded male and old-fashioned, aren't you?" Cynthia said with a smile.

"Is that a problem?"

"No," Cynthia said as she took the initiative and leaned in to kiss him first.

Roger pressed his lips against hers and slipped his hands around her waist to her lower back. She put both of her hands on his chest as she kissed him. It was a sensuous kiss that made Cynthia breathless and Roger eager. He stopped kissing her, and with his hands still around her waist, he looked her in the eyes.

"Have a wonderful evening, Cindy," Roger said. "I'll probably see you around the hospital, but definitely next Saturday."

Cynthia straightened her dress and hair. "Definitely."


	5. Chapter 5

Roger and Cynthia dated for a year, got engaged, and married in 1948, the same year Cynthia finished her residency. The administrators at Hermann Hospital were so impressed with her performance during her residency that she was hired full-time immediately upon completion. Roger also continued to work at Hermann in the legal department. It was the end of March 1950 when things took a turn.

"Are you alright in there?" Roger asked as he gently rapped on the bathroom door.

"I think I just have the stomach flu or some food poisoning from last night's dinner," Cynthia replied, even though she'd been sick for a while.

"Okay. Well, do you need anything before I head to work?"

"No. I'll be fine." Cynthia continued, "See you tonight. Love you."

"Love you too," Roger replied.

Cynthia finally started to feel better around 9:30 in the morning, making her late for her hospital shift. She decided to see if one of her colleagues and mentor, Beth Carraway, a family practitioner, would give her a prescription for anti-nausea medicine so she could work.

"Hi Beth," Cynthia said to Beth who was working on some paperwork in an office adjacent to her exam room.

"Hi, Cynthia. You look kind of pekid," Beth remarked. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Can't seem to keep the food down. I was wondering if you could give me a script for some anti-nausea medicine," Cynthia requested.

"Ah well, you know policy around here. I can't give you a script unless I check you out."

Cynthia sighed but agreed to the terms. After checking her eyes, ears, and throat, and palpating her thyroid, Dr. Carraway asked some routine questions.

"Are you having any abdominal pain?"

"No," Cynthia replied.

"How long has this been going on?" Dr. Carraway asked.

"About 4 days."

"Probably not food poisoning, then," Dr. Carraway replied. "You don't seem to have a fever. When was your last period?"

That question gave Cynthia pause. She looked to her left trying to remember. "You know….I think I missed my last period. I've just been so busy," Cynthia replied, and then paused again and locked eyes with Dr. Carraway. "You don't think…."

"When are you usually sick?"

Cynthia didn't answer but just stared into Dr. Carraway's eyes.

"It might be a good idea to run a pregnancy test. I can do that if you want."

Cynthia was still silent with a look of panic on her face.

Dr. Carraway, sensing Cynthia's trepidation, placed her hand on her shoulder, "Might as well confirm it or rule it out."

Cynthia nodded in the affirmative, looking paler than she did when she came in.

With her hand still on her shoulder, Dr. Carraway said, "Okay. Just bring me a urine sample when you have time today. I'll take care of the rest. Here's a script for an antiemetic."

Cynthia replied, "Okay," and took the slip of paper and went to the hospital pharmacy.

After stopping to take the medication at a drinking fountain, Cynthia began checking on her patients. The symptoms subsided fairly quickly and she was able to manage the workload for the day. She checked on a teenaged girl who had had an appendectomy, a man in his thirties who had gallbladder surgery, and a woman in her forties who had been in a car accident. She tended patients through lunch, having missed a couple of hours that morning. Around 12:30, she delivered a urine sample to Dr. Carraway. After checking on a couple more patients, she ran into Roger in the hallway at 1:30.

"I missed you at lunch. Are you still feeling poorly?" Roger asked.

"No, I'm better now. I've been catching up on patients," she replied.

"Good. I've been worried about you," he said.

"No reason to worry. I'll be fine," she said with a furtive expression, which Roger observed.

"Are you sure?" Roger inquired.

"I said, I'm fine," she said abruptly.

"Cindy…," he said with concern in his voice.

"Roger, I'm fine. I'm just very busy," she replied.

"You're never this busy to talk to me," he said.

"I promise we'll talk tonight," she continued, "I really have to get back to work."

Looking worried, Roger relented, " Okay. See you tonight."

Roger made it home earlier than Cynthia that evening and prepared dinner. Once she arrived at their home on Richmond Ave., Cynthia sat silently for a while in her car with her hands resting on the steering wheel. After a few moments, she went into the house and dropped her purse on the couch in the living room. She headed toward the kitchen where Roger was cooking. He stopped what he was doing and took her in his arms, noticing that she was somewhat rigid to his touch.

"Cindy, what's wrong?" he asked tenderly.

She removed herself from his embrace and sat at the kitchen table looking down at her hands. "I saw Dr. Carraway today."

He sat down with her. "Oh?"

"Roger, there's a chance…," she paused while still looking at her hands, and then looked up at him, "I might be pregnant."

Roger looked surprised at first and then smiled broadly. "Oh, Cindy, that's great news!"

"I'm not so sure," she replied.

Roger, looking surprised again, said, "Why?"

"I just got my medical career started. Now I'm afraid it will be over before it begins," she replied.

"Cindy, we can make it work," he said.

"Roger, we don't live in this utopian world you've created in your mind. Society isn't set up for women to be both mothers and career women," Cynthia asserted.

"We don't live in society. Wait a minute. That sounded wrong. We do, but we can make our small part of it the way we want."

"I could lose my job, or if I'm allowed to work into the pregnancy, I may not get my job back after I take some time off to have the baby," she said.

"I don't think that's true. You are highly regarded at the hospital and I'm sure they'd want you back."

"If that's true, then, what about child care while we're both at work?"

"Cindy, we'll figure it out. Sometimes life happens and you have to make of it what you can in the moment. Not everything can be planned out or calculated in advance. There are too many unknowns. Besides, both of us make enough money and have enough connections to pay for a quality nanny in the short term."

"I wouldn't like to face off against you in a courtroom," Cynthia said with a smile.

"Probably not. I've told you that I support you and your dreams and career goals time and again and I mean it. You have to just trust me and enjoy the fact that you and I may become parents," he said.

"I planned on being a mother, just not so soon," she said.

"There you go again, thinking everything planned works out." He continued, "You have to let go of that. Let's just take one day at a time. I mean, we don't even know that you're pregnant for sure yet. When will we know?"

"Probably tomorrow," she replied.

Roger put his hands on Cynthia's. "This is such wonderful news. Try to enjoy it," his said with a smile.

"I'm scared and happy at the same time," she replied.

"That sounds normal to me," he said. "Why don't we discuss a tentative plan of action _after_ you've found out you're pregnant?"

"Okay."

The two caught up on each other's days over dinner. The next morning, Cynthia was sick again, like clockwork. She went to work late and visited some patients for a couple of hours before dropping by Dr. Carraway's office.

"Hi Beth," Cynthia said.

"Hi Cynthia. Have a seat," Dr. Carraway replied.

Cynthia sat down in the leather chair in front of Dr. Carraway's desk. "Well?"

"Congratulations." She continued, "you're pregnant."

Cynthia exhaled a heavy breath and rubbed her forehead with her right hand. She had a look of panic on her face.

"Cynthia, what's wrong?"

"I'm going to lose my career. I've worked so hard to get to this point."

"What makes you say that?" Carraway asked.

"It's just the way things are," Cynthia said sadly.

"No it's not. I think you're worries are unfounded. You're in a better position than most to have a child and manage to keep a career at the same time," she reassured. "You're educated, and already have a good income, and a supportive husband."

"That's what Roger said."

"Roger is right," Dr. Carraway agreed.

"I hope so. I suppose I'll have to tell hospital administration what's going on," Cynthia said.

"Yes you will, or you could wait until they figure it out on their own," Dr. Carraway joked. She continued, "Cynthia, you don't work for the hospital, technically. They grant you privileges. I have no doubt, after you leave for a while to take care of your baby, that they will reinstate your privileges."

"Do you think so?" Cynthia said, looking more optimistic.

"I know so. You're a good doctor and they are going to want you back." Dr. Carraway continued, "I have a patient coming in in a few minutes. Here's the name of an excellent obstetrician." She handed Cynthia a slip of paper with a name on it.

"Thank you," Cynthia said.

The two women stood up at the same time and Dr. Carraway walked around her desk and put her arm around Cynthia's shoulders, "This is _good_ news, Cynthia. Embrace it."

"I think I'm breathing a little easier now, having talked to you," Cynthia replied.

"Good. See you around the hospital," Dr. Carraway said with a smile.

"Bye," Cynthia said, and left.


	6. Chapter 6

Cynthia left work early so she could be at home when Roger arrived to give him the news. He opened the door at 5:30 and walked back to the kitchen where Cynthia was sitting drinking iced tea. He took off his jacket and put it on the back of a kitchen chair and loosened his tie. He grabbed another chair, turned it around, faced Cynthia, and straddled it with his arms across the back.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" she said coyly.

He smirked and cocked his head at her. "I didn't see you all day. What's the news?"

"Turned out that Bill Jenkins had gallstones after all," she said with a smile.

"Cindy! You're killing me!" Roger exclaimed.

"Oh, you're talking about my test," she said with a smile.

Roger was silent with the same expression.

"Well, it looks like I'm…." Roger leaned forward while Cynthia continued, "pregnant."

Roger jumped up, grabbed Cynthia and pulled her up for a hug, knocking her tea on the ground and shattering the glass. They both looked down at the mess.

Roger shrugged and said, "Oh well," and continued hugging Cynthia. "I'm so happy, Cynthia!" He then kissed her passionately before she could get a word in edgewise and she kissed him in return. After a few moments, he continued, "Are you happy?"

Cynthia thought briefly to herself, "Yes. I think I am."

"I'm so glad. What did Dr. Carraway say?"

"Just that I was pregnant and to not worry about my job. She didn't think that was a legitimate concern and that the hospital would love to have me back after having the baby."

"See?" Roger said.

"Yeah, well, I still have to tell my department head, Gordon Stephenson, what's going on," Cynthia replied.

"I'm not worried," Roger replied.

"You never are. You are the eternal optimist," Cynthia said with a smirk.

"Someone has to be," he replied.

"Well, I'm not a pessimist," she said.

Roger was silent.

"I'm not," she insisted.

"No, I'd say you're a realist with occasional bouts of pessimism," Roger replied with a smile.

"Someone has to have their feet on the ground," she said.

"You're so right. And I love you just the way you are," he replied. "So how pregnant are you?"

"By my best guess, around 8 weeks. I don't know for sure. Dr. Carraway gave me the name of an obstetrician," she elaborated.

"Good, good," he replied. "What do you say about going out to dinner to celebrate?"

"I'm still somewhat queasy, how about popcorn and some TV?" she replied.

"Popcorn it is," Roger replied.

That night, they watched _Buck Rogers_, the _Fireside Theater_, and ended the evening with some laughs watching _Can You Top This?_

The next day around 11 am, a husky gentleman in his late forties with a broom mustache sat at his desk in his neatly organized office in Hermann Hospital. A knock came on his door. "C'mon in," he said. Cynthia Parsons entered the office still wearing her lab coat, with her stethoscope draped over her shoulders under her wavy, dark hair.

"Dr. Stephenson, do you have a few moments?" Cynthia asked.

He put down his pen and said, "Yes, I do, Dr. Parsons." Dr. Gordon Stephenson was an affable man who gave up practicing medicine to work on the administrative side of things at the hospital. He was head of the General Medicine department over Cynthia and many other staff. "Please, sit down," he said as he motioned for her to sit in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. As she sat down, he stood up and took a small watering can and began watering the plants on his office window ledge.

"How are you, Cynthia? I haven't seen you up here in a while, and please, call me Gordon," he remarked.

"Okay. I'm good. I've been pretty busy," she replied.

"I heard about that diagnosis you made not too long ago on the Sheffield case. Brilliant, just brilliant," he said.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

He stopped watering his plants and sat down with his arms crossed casually on this desk. "So, what can I help you with today?" Reading some concern on her face, he asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"Wrong? No," Cynthia said.

"Whew. That's good, I was afraid you were going to say there was," he replied.

"Well, I have some news," she said.

"Oh?"

She hesitated briefly but said, "Yes. I wanted to let you know that I found out recently that I'm pregnant."

He uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his Naugahyde chair with his hands on both arms. Cynthia didn't know how to read his reaction and became quite nervous.

After a few moments of quiet contemplation he said, "Cynthia, that's great news. I bet Roger is just beaming."

"He's on Cloud 9, really," she replied.

"I bet he is," he said with a smile. "So, does this mean you're coming to tell me that you plan on quitting?"

She tried to read his expression and measured her words, "Actually, I would like to take some time off to have the baby, but I would like to be able to come back."

"You say that _now,"_ he replied cryptically.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Cynthia said.

"You'll see. You'll have this baby and become smitten and never look back," he replied.

She crossed her arms, and trying to keep her cool, said, "Dr. St…, I mean, Gordon, I did not work this hard at becoming a doctor to just give it all up."

Sensing her defensiveness, he said, "What I mean is that once you have that baby, you don't know what you might want after that."

"I already know what I want. I wanted children someday. That day came sooner than I thought. But as much as wanting children, I want my career as a doctor because I love helping people and I want any children I have to see their mother realizing her dream."

"Sounds pretty romantic to me," he replied, still leaning back, but resting his hands on his stomach.

"Maybe, but I mean it," she replied emphatically.

"Cynthia, I think it's great that you want both a family and a career here at the hospital. I'm glad I got to hear your passion for your work here today. I'm assuming what you're wondering is if you can come back to work here once you're ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she said with her arms still crossed and sitting stiffly in her chair.

"Well, I personally wouldn't have it any other way. You are a great asset to this hospital and you would be a big loss if we did not get you back."

"Were you just toying with me, then?" she asked.

"Testing, yes. Toying, no," he replied with a smile. "So, tell me more about this baby. When is he or she due? Got any names picked out yet?"

"I'm not sure, but if I had to guess, probably October. I have my first O.B. appointment in a week. We haven't gotten as far as names yet, having just found out that I'm pregnant," she replied.

He reached into the lower right drawer of this desk and pulled out a box. He opened the lid and produced a cigar. "Make sure that Roger gets this. Give him my congratulations, as well."

"I will," she replied, taking the cigar and putting it in the breast pocket of her lab coat.

"And congratulations to you, too, Cynthia," he continued, "and keep me updated."

"Thanks," she replied.

"And by the way, I meant it when I said I want you back at work. If you need something in writing, I can arrange that."

"I might just take you up on that," she replied with a smile. She stood up and extended her hand. He stood up in kind and shook her hand. She said, "and thanks for taking the time to talk today with your busy schedule, Gordon. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Cynthia."

She turned and left his office, closing the door behind her. She briefly leaned against the door and let out a big sigh of relief. After leaving Stephenson's office, she went to the hospital cafeteria to have lunch. She walked down the food line with her tray, automatically eliminating any foods with chunky or creamy textures as options. She eventually settled on a chicken breast and some green beans and grabbed a milk carton from the refrigerator before heading to a table to eat.

Roger walked into the cafeteria and scoped the room to find Cynthia. Once he saw her, he went through the food line to grab his lunch. He came over to where she was sitting and sat down.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better. I think I'll actually be able to hold this down," she said, looking down at the food on her tray.

"That's good," he said, reaching across the table to touch her hand.

"I talked to Gordon," she said.

"Oh?"

"I told him that I was pregnant, but would like my job back when I was ready," she said.

"And how did that go over?"

"At first, I thought he was insulting me, insinuating that I was going to lose my mind from going gaga over motherhood. Then he tried to smooth it over." She continued, "By the end of the conversation I thought he was toying with me, but he said he was merely testing my resolve."

"And?" Roger replied.

"Long story, short, he said I could have my job back, anytime, and I could have it in writing if I wanted," she said with a broad smile.

"That's great news. I knew it!" Roger replied.

"Oh. He said to give you this," she said as she pulled the cigar from her pocket and handed it to Roger.

He smiled and said, "I'll save this for when the baby is born." He opened his jacket and placed it in the inside pocket. "When's your first appointment with the obstetrician?"

"Next week," she replied.

"I guess now that we can breathe somewhat easy, we should start making some plans," Roger said.

"Plans?"

"Yes. Making a nursery in the house? Coming up with names? Talking to the future grandmas and grandpas?"

Cynthia hadn't absorbed the reality of the situation until this moment. She put her fork down on her tray and put her hand over her mouth, looking queasy again.


	7. Chapter 7

Cynthia got over the morning sickness within a month and was back working at a normal pace doing what she loved. One month after that, the reality of the risks of pregnancy became all too clear. It was a Tuesday morning and Cynthia was 4 months pregnant in the middle of May. She was making her hospital rounds when a pregnant woman came in for delivery. She was a beautiful brunette woman with long hair and a deep dimple in one of her cheeks who was breathing heavily and in a lot of pain.

"Move her to delivery," said Dr. Jameson, the on-call obstetrician. "We have a premature birth and it's about to happen," he said with an urgent tone.

Cynthia was standing at the nurses' station filling out paperwork when the woman was wheeled into delivery. A nurse blocked two men from entering the ward and said, "This is as far as you two go. We have a waiting room over there for fathers and family," she said gesturing to the room. Cynthia watched the two men, both about 40 years of age. One of the men had a gentle face and was dressed in a suit and the other was dressed in a more casual fashion and had more rugged features and was considerably taller than the other man. The shorter man patted his worried friend on the back and escorted him to the waiting room. Cynthia continued working, but occasionally watched the two men. They seemed to her to be rather close friends.

About 15 minutes later, when Cynthia was about to wrap up her paperwork, a nurse burst out the delivery room door.

"Dr. Parsons, Dr. Samuels, and you two nurses…. Dr. Jameson needs some more help," she said with some urgency and concern on her face. The two men in the waiting room stood up and watched the scene helplessly.

When Cynthia arrived in the delivery room, a nurse had already taken the baby that had been delivered and was cleaning him. She looked over at the woman who was unconscious, and immediately noticed she had hemorrhaged an enormous amount of blood. Dr. Jameson was packing her uterus with sponges and other sterile materials. Dr. Jameson exclaimed, "I can't stop the bleeding! Dr. Samuels, I need a surgeon to evaluate this patient and see if surgery is warranted. Dr. Parsons, I need you to monitor her condition while we work." Both Cynthia and Dr. Samuels jumped in with their help. Nurses were starting I.V.'s and providing more sterile materials. One dressed Dr. Samuels in new scrubs and new gloves. The trio of doctors worked on the woman for thirty minutes, when it became apparent that they couldn't save her. The woman died and the doctors and nurses stood there silently for a few moments.

Dr. Jameson broke the silence. "Dr. Parsons, would you join me while I tell the father what happened today?"

Cynthia, visibly shaken by the scene, replied nonetheless, "Yes."

"Take a few moments to collect yourself and we'll go," Jameson said. He continued, addressing the nurses, "Please clean up this patient for the husband's visit." The nurses nodded silently.

"Are you ready, Dr. Parsons?" asked Dr. Jameson a few minutes later.

Cynthia said, "Yes," and the two walked out of the delivery room toward the waiting room. The two men who were waiting together stood up.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," Dr. Jameson said.

"How's my wife?" the more rugged man asked.

"Well sir, first of all, you have a beautiful, healthy baby boy. The nurses have taken him to the neonatal ward and you'll be able to see him soon," said Dr. Jameson.

"And my wife?" he asked again. His friend looked at them in anticipation as well.

Dr. Jameson looked over at Cynthia and then back at the men, "You see Mr.?"

"Matlock," the man replied.

"Mr. Matlock, your wife had a complication. It's unfortunately, a very common one," Dr. Jameson said.

"Complication?" Mr. Matlock replied while his friend looked down at his own hands, seeming to intuit the explanation and the outcome of the delivery. Cynthia sat down next to Mr. Matlock and put her hand on his.

Cynthia said, "Mr. Matlock, your wife started bleeding severely after the baby was born. Three of us doctors and some nurses worked for a long time to save her, but she did not make it."

Mr. Matlock looked to be in shock. He said, "Susan?" He paused and reiterated, "My Susan is dead?"

Cynthia replied, "Yes, Mr. Matlock." As she said that, the friend with Matlock put his arm around his shoulders while Matlock just stared at Cynthia. After a few moments, he broke down crying with his friend's arm around his shoulders. Cynthia kept her hand on his and Dr. Jameson stood up to leave.

Dr. Jameson said, "I'm really sorry Mr. Matlock. I'll send a nurse out in few minutes to come get you so you can see her." Dr. Jameson walked back into the delivery room. Cynthia and Matlock's friend continued to comfort him while he cried.

Several minutes later, a nurse approached. "Mr. Matlock, you can come see your wife now."

He stood up slowly and crossed his arms over his stomach and with his head bowed, walked with the nurse to say goodbye to his wife.

Matlock's friend introduced himself to Cynthia. "Hello, my name is Bill," he said as he extended his hand.

Cynthia took his hand and shook, "Cynthia. Cynthia Parsons."

"Nice to meet you. I just wish it was under better circumstances," he said.

"Me too," she replied.

"This can't be easy for you….having to do this all the time," he said.

"I haven't done it much, but it is not pleasant, no," she replied.

"I can't imagine it would be," he replied.

"What makes it hard in this particular instance is that I happen to be pregnant myself," she said.

"Oh, really? Well, yes, then, I imagine that this hits pretty close to home," he said.

"Yes, it does."

"My wife Rebecca is pregnant too. She's due in July."

"Congratulations," she said.

"You women really are stronger and braver than us men. If men were responsible for bringing life into the world with the frequent and sometimes fatal dangers involved, no one would ever get pregnant and the species would disappear."

"Maybe," she replied.

"It's hard enough to worry about our wives as they go through this process. I can't imagine losing my Rebecca like Wade has lost Susan. It can also be hard on a child to learn his or her mother died giving birth to him or her. I don't know how Wade is going to pull through this tragedy."

"Have you been friends long?"

"Yes. Many years. We were friends before World War II. He used to work for me before that, and then after he came back a war hero, he came back to Texas to become a wildcatter. We've mainly known each other socially after the war. I have a cabin in the Sabine National Forest and we take fishing and hunting trips there often with some other friends."

"What do you do?" Cynthia asked.

"I started out in oil and now I have a variety of investments," he said vaguely. He continued, changing the subject, "I'm impressed that you are a doctor. I don't think I've ever met a woman doctor before. That had to be a challenge for you…becoming a doctor, I mean. Probably a lot of obstacles in your way," he said.

"Yes, but here I am. Of course they don't give you grief classes in college or medical school," she said.

"You did fine. What does your husband do?" he asked.

"He's a lawyer. Actually, he works for this hospital too," she replied.

"Oh? What's his name?"

"Roger Parsons. He works for the legal department."

"A doctor and a lawyer? Your baby is going to be very fortunate indeed. And smart…"

"We'll do our best," she replied.

"I have no doubt with such smart parents and such a compassionate mother, that your child will go far," he said.

"Thank you," she said. "I better get back to work." She continued, "I didn't catch your last name. Bill?"

He stood up and shook her hand again, "Oh. My name's Bill Houston."

"Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Houston. Please give my condolences again to Mr. Matlock," she said.

"I will. Take care, Dr. Parsons." He then sat down in the waiting area after Cynthia left and waited for about 30 more minutes when Matlock came out with a nurse who took them both to the neonatal ward to see his new baby.


	8. Chapter 8

"So, Dr. Parsons, I hear this is your last day," Nancy Kearney, the duty nurse asked while Cynthia filled out some paperwork on the counter of the nurse's station.

"Uh-huh," she replied, still writing.

"When's the baby due?" Nancy asked.

Cynthia looked up and smiled, "Around the middle of October."

"Are you excited?"

"Getting there. Mostly nervous," Cynthia replied.

"Ah, yes. The first one is the hardest in that regard, well, in a lot of regards," Nancy said.

"I imagine so," she replied.

"How much time are you planning to take off?"

"I don't know yet. We're playing it by ear," Cynthia said.

"That's probably for the best."

Just then, Head Nurse, Sally Tompkins walked up to the nurse's station. She looked at Nancy who returned an odd glance and said, "Nancy, don't you have some work to do?"

Nancy smiled and said, "Oh, yes. I'll get right on that," and she left the nurses' station and walked down the hallway out of sight.

"I'm glad I ran into you, Cynthia. Dr. Peterson said that he needed a consult on Dorothy Lovell, but he's getting ready to leave, so if you want to catch him, I just saw him the doctors' lounge."

"Okay, can you take these for me?" she asked as she handed Sally the forms she had been filling out.

"Sure," Sally replied.

Cynthia walked down the hall to the doctors' lounge. When she was several yards away from the lounge, she saw the cardiologist, Dr. Franklin and a nurse talking to each other. What she didn't see was the rap Dr. Franklin made on the door as she approached.

"Hi, Dr. Parsons. How are you?" Dr. Franklin asked as Cynthia approached.

"Good. I'm here to talk to Dr. Peterson." She looked at the nurse and said, "Hi Linda."

Linda smiled and returned the 'hello' with a nod.

"I just saw him in the lounge," Dr. Franklin answered.

"Thanks," she replied as she turned and opened the door and walked into the lounge. Dr. Franklin and Linda followed her in, as she realized the surprise. There, on the dining table, was a large sheet cake, and standing behind the table were Drs. Peterson, Carraway, and Stephenson. A group of people shouted, "Surprise!" She looked around the room and saw her obstetrician and 3 other doctors and half dozen nurses, as well as a smiling Roger. There was a banner taped to the cabinets above the sink behind everyone, that read, "Don't Be a Stranger." Roger walked up to Cynthia and put his arm around her waist while everyone smiled and applauded. She put her hands over her mouth and stifled tears.

"We are going to miss you, Dr. Parsons," Dr. Stephenson chimed in.

"Yeah. We're happy about the baby and all, but we're really looking forward to having you back here," Dr. Carraway said.

"What a surprise!" Cynthia exclaimed. "You shouldn't have…."

"What? Are you kidding?" Dr. Stephenson asked.

Roger tightened his grip around her waist as she let out some tears.

Dr. Peterson broke the seriousness, "Well, I have to get back to work, so let's cut this cake and have some."

"Yes," Roger said, looking at Cynthia.

Dr. Peterson began cutting the cake and placing slices on paper plates.

Dr. Carraway asked as she received her slice of cake, "So, how long are you going to be gone?"

"I was just telling Nancy Kearney, that I'm not sure. Whenever I feel ready, I suppose," Cynthia replied.

Roger said, "In the short term we're preparing for our little boy or girl."

"Which would you like, Roger? A boy?" Dr. Carraway asked.

"Actually, I'd kind of like a little girl so I could be in a house full of women," he said with a smile.

Dr. Peterson, who had three daughters and no sons, said with a sigh, "You say that _now…._" and ate a bite of cake.

"No, really. I'd be happy with either, but I think I'd like to have a little girl."

Cynthia agreed after taking her slice of cake, "I'm the same." She continued, "I'd eventually like to have one of each."

Roger smiled at Cynthia and put his arm around her waist again.

"What will you be doing between now and when the baby's born," asked Dr. Carraway.

"We'll be getting the nursery in order," replied Cynthia. She continued, "and I might actually try to finish a book or two for the first time in a long time."

"And stocking up on all the baby necessities," said Roger.

"How much have you gotten done with the nursery?" Dr. Carraway asked.

"I've painted the room," said Roger. "That's about it."

"We still have to decorate and get a crib," Cynthia said.

"I don't think you told me when you are due, Cynthia. When is it?" Dr. Carraway asked.

"The middle of October. Just about three more months to go," Cynthia replied.

"Are you nervous?" Carraway asked.

"A little. I'm going to receive caudal anesthesia during delivery, so I'm comforted by the idea that I'll have less pain," Cynthia replied.

"The miracle of modern medicine," Roger said before taking a bite of cake.

"Do you have family coming out after the delivery," asked Dr. Stephenson.

"Yes. Actually, since Cynthia's parents live so close, they will be coming on the day of the delivery. My parents will be coming from Dallas a week or so after," Roger said.

"It's going to be helpful to have the support after the baby is born," Cynthia said.

"Yes it will be," Dr. Carraway affirmed.

"Have you come up with any names yet?" Dr. Peterson asked while throwing his paper plate into a nearby wastebasket.

"No. We really need to get cracking on that," Roger said.

"We gave my son a name that matched my husband's initials and my daughter a name that matched mine," Dr. Carraway said. "It helped us to have a system to avoid arguments."

"We just aren't sure what we'll do yet about names," Cynthia said.

"Well, a name is important. Name can be destiny," Dr. Stephenson waxed philosophical.

"That's deep, Gordon," Dr. Peterson replied. "I'd like to stay to chat and eat more cake, but I have to get back to work. Congratulations in advance, Cynthia and Roger."

"Oh, hey, did you really need a consult on Dorothy Lovell?" Cynthia asked.

"Yeah, but it's not an emergency. Sometime when you have a few spare minutes this afternoon would be fine," Dr. Peterson replied.

"I'll make time," Cynthia said.

"Thanks." Dr. Peterson wiped the cake out of his mustache and left the doctor's lounge.

"I better get back to the office too," Dr. Carraway said. She walked up to Cynthia and hugged her. "Let me know if you need anything while you're off."

"I will," Cynthia replied. Dr. Carraway left to go back to her office.

"Yes. Let me know if you need anything as well. Either of you. And, don't forget to bring that baby by for a visit after he or she is born," Dr. Stephenson said.

"We will. Thanks Gordon," Roger said. "I'm going to head back to work too, Cindy. I'll see you later tonight," Roger said as he kissed her on the cheek. He tossed his paper plate into the wastebasket, and walked past Cynthia, gently squeezing her arm on the way out.

"I'll leave with you, Cynthia. Where are you heading," Dr. Stephenson asked.

"I'm heading back to the nurses' station," she said.

"Great. I'll walk with you," he replied.

Stephenson escorted Cynthia back to the nurse's station where she stayed and finished the paperwork she was working on earlier, and he went back to his office.

Later that day, Roger was able to leave work a little early which was something that happened rarely. When he arrived at home, there was a package in front of the garage. He carried the awkwardly large box through the front door and into the living room. He grabbed a utility knife out of a kitchen drawer and cut open the box to find a baby crib in five pieces. He hadn't ordered it._ Had Cynthia?_ The hardware and instructions were included, so he moved the pieces to the nursery and began putting it together.


	9. Chapter 9

Cynthia, still at work, met with Dr. Peterson in Dorothy Lovell's room to discuss her symptoms and recent test results. She had been having pains in her back and had coughed up a small amount of blood, but not recently. Her oxygen was a little low and her heart rate was elevated. Her x-rays didn't show anything abnormal and Dr. Peterson was perplexed.

"What other symptoms have you had," Cynthia asked the 40 year-old woman with salt and pepper hair.

"I've been coughing a lot in general," she replied.

"Anything else? Even if it doesn't seem related or hasn't been recent?" Cynthia asked.

"Not that I can recall." She paused. "Wait. I had a pain in my arm about two months ago. I thought I pulled a muscle but it didn't really feel like that. It seemed like it was more like some kind of swelling. It actually shrunk a little and moved down my arm and disappeared."

"That is very odd," Cynthia said. "Did the pain feel dull or like a really powerful pinch?"

"More like a pinch," she replied.

"Any thoughts, Dr. Parsons," asked Dr. Peterson.

"Maybe. Thanks for letting me visit with you, Mrs. Lovell," Cynthia said. "Dr. Peterson, why don't you and I go look at those x-rays again?"

"Okay," he replied. "See you later, Mrs. Lovell."

"Okay," the nervous woman replied.

Cynthia and Dr. Peterson left the room and walked a few feet down the hall when Cynthia grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"I didn't want to say this in front of her to cause her any undue concern, but I think I know what she has. Her symptoms are atypical but my best guess is that she's got a pulmonary embolism caused by deep vein thrombosis."

"From the swelling in her arm?" he asked.

"Yes. She's coughing and has coughed up blood, her oxygen is low and heart rate high, and her symptoms in her arm seem consistent with DVT." She continued, "I think you should start her on Coumadin right away before it gets out of hand. If that's what she has, she's lucky to be alive at all right now."

"Thanks, Cynthia. That never would have occurred to me," Dr. Peterson replied. "I don't know what we're all going to do while you're gone. You're a fantastic diagnostician."

"Thanks. You can always call me on the phone if you need to," she replied.

"I might. Well, I'm going to get her started on Coumadin. Thanks again, Dr. Parsons. I know this is your last day for a while so I'll say 'goodbye' again, and I'll look forward to your return," he said and then shook her hand.

After finishing up her day with some paperwork, Cynthia picked up her medical bag and walked out the front doors of the hospital, and stopped and turned around and scanned the building one more time before heading to her car.

She walked in her front door, but did not see Roger. "Roger?" she called.

"I'm in here," he replied.

She followed the voice to the soon-to-be-nursery. Standing in the doorway, she immediately noticed his big smile and him standing next to a brand new baby crib. She entered the room and asked, "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Are you sure it's ours? It might have been delivered here by mistake," she said.

"Doesn't appear so. It definitely had our address on it," he replied.

"Well, I wonder who got this for us?"

"I was thinking my parents or yours."

"I'll give them both a call tonight to see if they did. This is a very generous gift," she said. She put her hands on the rail of the crib that had solid head and foot ends with drop rails on either side with a mattress. It was made of sturdy, quality wood with beautiful craftsmanship. "It really is quite nice."

"I thought so," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "What shall we do for dinner?"

"I think I'll just reheat some leftovers from last night, if that's okay," she said.

"Sounds fine. I'll just pick up in here and take all this mess out to the trash," he said.

"Okay."

Cynthia preheated the oven and put the leftovers in a baking dish and covered it while Roger took out the trash. She sat down and picked up the phone to call her parents.

"Hi, Mom."

"Oh, how are you dear?" her mother Deborah replied.

"I'm fine. You?"

"We're fine. Your father dropped a carburetor on his foot the other day, but it's better now." Deborah continued, "Your brother called yesterday. He and Janice found out she's pregnant and we're going to be grandparents a second time and you're going to be an aunt for the first. Isn't that exciting?"

"Wow. That _is_ big news. I'm glad I called. When is she due?"

"Looks to be this coming January. Your brother is ecstatic. I'm just glad he got out of the military before all this Korea nonsense."

"I bet dad's thrilled too," Cynthia replied.

"He is. How's Roger and how's your work?"

"Roger's well. I had my last day at work today."

"How did that go?"

"Some doctors and nurses threw a going away party for me with cake. I ended the day with solving a difficult diagnosis for a patient," she said with a smile.

"That's a great note to end on. I know you're a terrific doctor. What else is up?" her mother asked. Roger walked into the kitchen and Cynthia acknowledged his presence with a nod.

"Listen, did you and Dad buy us a baby crib? It was delivered to us today."

"No, I'm afraid not, dear. We're going to bring you some baby clothes and other supplies on the day of your delivery. Do you need anything else?"

"Not that I can think of right now. Is dad there?"

"No. He's at the Rubinstein Community Center."

"Oh. Tell him I called. Were you still planning on coming out to the house next weekend?"

"Definitely."

"Great. We'll catch up then. I have to finish putting dinner together. I'll see you next weekend. Love you. Tell dad I love him too."

"I will, dear."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Cynthia hung up the phone. "My parents didn't buy us the crib."

"Then my parents probably did," Roger replied.

Cynthia put the leftovers in the oven to warm them up. "Why don't you call them while I pick up the living room."

"Okay. How long until dinner?"

"About a half an hour," Cynthia said as she headed into the living room. She began picking up magazines and looking at their expiration dates to see which she could throw out and which ones she'd like to keep if she hadn't read them yet. After sorting and restacking the magazines, she picked up books and put them back on shelves. Roger had a tendency to leave his law books around the house without putting them back in the bookshelf. She went to the hall closet to retrieve a dust cloth and lightly dusted the living room – nothing rigorous, since she thought dusting was pointless. She sat back down and pulled out the television schedule from Sunday's paper and placed it on the coffee table and put the newspaper on the magazines-to-discard pile. She grabbed the recent _Life _magazine and sat down on the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table.

Roger entered the living room, "My parents didn't get us the crib either. They send their best and say they are planning to come out here the end of October." He flopped down on the couch next to Cynthia and put his arm around her.

Cynthia said, "My mother told me that Robert and Janice found out she was pregnant and she's due this coming January."

"Oh, that's great! You'll be an aunt at the same time you'll be a mother, and our little boy or girl will have a cousin his or her age. I loved my siblings, but I had the most fun with my cousin growing up." Roger grinned. "Oh, the trouble we got into…."

Cynthia looked at him askance. "I wonder who got that crib for us. Was there a card or a note attached or anything on the packing slip?"

"Not that I could find. I'm sure whoever got it for us will come out of the woodwork soon." Just then the kitchen timer dinged and Cynthia started to get up to prepare dinner. "Sit down and relax, Cindy. I'll take care of it," Roger said as he got up to get dinner ready. Cynthia sat leafing through the issue of _Life _magazine.

Once dinner was served, the two sat down at the kitchen table and began eating and talking about plans for the nursery and baby.

"I guess all we need for the nursery now is a changing table and a dresser for the baby's clothes," Cynthia said.

"Looks like it," Roger said before taking a bite of food.

"What do you think about what Beth said about having a system for baby names?" Cynthia asked.

"What kind of system were you thinking of?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm open to suggestions," she replied.

"Hmmm. Well, if it's a boy, I don't want him to be a 'junior'. That seemed to put a lot of unconscious pressure on my elder brother."

"Seems reasonable," she said. "What do you think about incorporating our parents' names somehow?"

"I think that would be a nice tribute," Roger replied. He continued, "Were you thinking about first names or middle names?"

"I think that middle would be better since your first name tends to be most tied to your identity and it should probably not be someone else's name….kind of like your observation about the sons who are juniors."

"Okay. How about this?" Roger continued, "You come up with girl names and I'll come up with boy names. What do you think about taking a page from Beth and giving a girl your first initial and a boy, mine?"

"That would certainly make it easier to narrow it down," she replied. "Let me see if I have this straight: I'm coming up with girls' names that start with 'C.' Which maternal grandparent for the middle name?"

"Well, since our baby girl would have your first initial, why not make her middle name my mother's name?"

"My mother might be hurt," she replied.

"She might, but maybe you can find a tribute for her with our baby's first name. Besides, we're going to have at least one other child, aren't we?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Then there will be at least one other opportunity for your mother provided we have a girl," he said.

"So, I'll come up with C-Joanne names," she said.

"Yes. And I'll come up with R-Jacob names," he replied.

"Sounds like a system," Cynthia said.

The two finished eating, cleaned up the dishes together, and retired to the living room. They both put their feet on the coffee table. Roger put his arm over her shoulders while Cynthia relaxed her head against his shoulder as they watched the evening's television offerings.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day Cynthia stayed home for the first time in a long while, not immediately knowing what to do with her time, while Roger left for work. He kissed her goodbye and left. On the way to work, he took a detour to the Houston Public Library. Needing something to jog his imagination, he went there looking for a book of baby names. Once he found one he liked, he checked it out and left for work.

His ever-curious co-worker, Dean, greeted him when he entered the hospital legal office. "Hey Roger. Coming in a little late, aren't you?"

He looked at the clock on the wall, "I guess so."

"Well, I've been working on the project to acquire the extra property for future expansion on the south side of Bellaire Blvd. Care to join me?" Dean asked.

"Sure. I'll be back in a minute," he replied as he headed toward his office. Once there, he draped his jacket over the back of his chair and put the book of baby names on his desk. He planned to look through it over lunch. He returned to work with Dean.

"Where were you this morning?" Dean asked.

"At the library," Roger said, sitting down with a pen and a clipboard.

"The law library?" Dean asked.

"No. The public library," Roger replied.

"Had some overdue books?" Dean asked.

Roger, a little perturbed, replied, "You sure are curious this morning. Are you bored or something?" Dean was an annoying sort of coworker who Roger was polite to at work but did not extend their relationship into his social circle.

"Yeah. A little. These real estate acquisitions are boring."

"Well, I'm not sure how I can entertain you with my library trips," Roger quipped.

"You'd be amazed," Dean replied.

"If you must know, I stopped to pick up a book of baby names," Roger replied.

"Oh? No Roger Jr.?" Dean asked.

"No. And, Cynthia might have a girl," Roger replied.

"Good point," Dean said. "It has to be exciting….becoming a father, I mean."

"It is."

"I don't think I'll ever know. I'm 34 and I haven't met a girl who can put up with me," Dean said.

Roger was struck by a glimpse of Dean's humanity, but nonetheless thought to himself, _perhaps if you weren't such a creep, you might have someone._

Out loud, he said, "You will. There's someone out there for everyone."

Dean replied, "You're such a Pollyanna, Parsons."

"Maybe," Roger said.

"Do you have any names in mind yet?" Dean asked.

"Not really. We just have the middle names picked out," Roger replied.

"Oh?"

"Yes. If it's a girl, her middle name will be my mother's name, and if it's a boy, his middle name will be Cynthia's father's name."

"Are you going to let the grandparents know ahead of time, or surprise them with the names?" Dean asked.

"We haven't talked about it yet," Roger replied.

Marcus Phillips entered the legal office. He was the supervisor of the legal team. "What are you two up to?"

"We were just talking, but we're about to dig into this real estate acquisition on Bellaire," Roger replied.

"Good," Marcus said, pulling up a chair. "So, Parsons, have you gotten any suspicious packages lately?"

Surprised, Roger replied, "Why, yes. We got a baby crib yesterday. Was that from you?"

Dean looked at Marcus when Marcus replied, "Actually, it's from the whole office. We took up a collection."

Roger, obviously moved, replied in a quiet tone, "That was an incredibly generous gesture. Thank you so much. Cynthia thanks you."

"Nonsense. You deserve it. You do amazing work here and we're all glad you're going to be a father. That child is truly going to be one lucky kid," Marcus replied.

"Well, thank you again, anyway. It's really nice."

"You're welcome," Marcus continued, "Now, let's get down to brass tacks. What's been done on this acquisition?"

Dean replied, "I've been looking into jurisdictional building laws, and here's what I came up with." He handed Marcus a file and continued, "From what I see, it shouldn't be too cumbersome to build on the spot."

"I've been researching the title history of the land and there doesn't seem to be any existing liens or overdue taxes," Roger said.

"I know that the property owner is willing to sell, so that shouldn't be an issue," Marcus said while looking through Dean's file.

"I think we should recommend to the hospital board that a geologic survey of the land be done before any deals are discussed," Roger said.

"I agree," Marcus said. "Dean, I'd like you to write a report based on this information. Put it in language the board can understand."

"You bet."

Marcus continued, "Roger, I'd like you to put all of the property documents together in one place and write a summary report for the board as well. Be sure to put your recommendation for a land survey in your summary."

"Okay," Roger said.

"We have something else to work on today, so I'll just make the deadline for this property stuff Friday at Noon, so it's ready for the Monday Board of Trustees meeting," Marcus said.

"What's up, Phillips?" Dean asked.

"Fortunately, it's a rare occasion, but we have a medical malpractice lawsuit on our hands."

"Really?" Dean asked, seemingly energized.

Roger sighed quietly and leaned back in his chair. Most of the time, he enjoyed his work with the hospital even though it could be boring at times, but medical malpractice suits weren't his kind of excitement. He knew his job was to defend the hospital at all costs even when it seemed apparent to him that a patient had a valid complaint. The plaintiff generally lost due to being outgunned by the hospital legal team, which seemed unfair to him and left a bad taste in his mouth, as a participant.

"What's going on," Roger asked.

"Well, we have a litigant who claims that his elderly mother died in surgery because the surgeon was drunk, "Marcus replied.

"Was he?" Roger asked.

"We're going to have to find that out. It's a pretty serious allegation and the litigant, being a person of means, has already gotten a duo of the best lawyers in Houston. They've already been questioning hospital staff, so we really need to move on this. It may be that this doctor is innocent, but if he was drunk and they prove it, we're going to have to negotiate a settlement. This could take up our time for a while, so we need to wrap up this real estate acquisition." Marcus continued, "While you two are working on that today, I'm going to meet with some hospital administrators and the doctor in question."

"Okay," Roger said.

"If you two can get these reports done before Friday, that would be even better," Marcus said.

"I'm on it," replied Dean.

The men went to their separate offices and worked until lunch when Marcus and Dean left to go to the hospital cafeteria for lunch and Roger stayed behind to eat lunch at his desk. His office was tastefully decorated with a desk and two arm chairs with deep brick red fabric upholstery facing his desk. The walls were painted a light warm brown and there was a large, six foot wide bookshelf with a variety of legal books. He had some plants in his window and across from his desk on the wall was a print of Norman Rockwell's 1927 painting, _The Law Student. _He ate his sandwich while leafing through the book of baby names. There must have been tens of thousands of names. He went to the 'R' names for boys. There were a lot of 'R' names to be sure, but he didn't really know which resonated with him for a potential son. He put the book down and looked out the window and daydreamed while finishing his lunch.

Roger decided that since he was such a movie buff, he would come up with 'R' names of some of his favorite actors. He took out a notepad and started jotting down some names off the top of his head. He wrote down "Raymond" for Raymond Massey from _Abe Lincoln in Illinois, _"Ronald" for Ronald Colman from _Random Harvest,_ and "Richard" for Richard Burton. He realized that some surnames make good boy names and he jotted down "Randolph" for Jane Randolph of _Cat People_, who he liked because she reminded him of a lighter haired version of Cynthia. Then he wrote down "Russell" for Jane Russell from _The Outlaw_, well, because….


	11. Chapter 11

Cynthia was at home searching their basement for a book her grandmother gave her when they got married. It was a book of meanings of baby names. She really had no idea where to start and this was as good a place as any. After digging into four boxes, she found the book. She walked up the basement stairs and turned out the light and went into the kitchen to sit down and write down some name choices. She browsed the book and noticed that almost half of the girls' names that began with 'C' meant "pure." _What was that all about?_ It was a challenge for Cynthia to find names that had meanings she liked as well as names that she liked. She wrote down Casey, which meant "brave," Channing, which meant "wise," Clarissa, which meant "brilliant," and Cora, which meant "she knows." She got up and poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, thinking. Since their potential daughter would have Roger's mother's name as her middle name, she wanted a few name choices to honor her own mother for the first name. Her mother liked literature and history, so she went into the living room to grab an American history book and sat down on the couch to peruse it. After finding that there weren't many women's names in it by browsing it, she closed it and thought again for a while. Then, it dawned on her….her mother's interest in women's rights. She opened the book and looked up the suffragettes who her mother admired and found Carrie Chapman Catt and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. So, she went back to the kitchen and added "Carrie" and "Cady" to her list. Much of the rest of her day was spent organizing the house, since she was stir crazy from her first day off from work.

Roger spent the rest of his day working on his summary report for the real estate deal and capped it off reading up on medical malpractice law. He arrived at home at 6 pm that evening to be greeted by Cynthia making dinner in the kitchen.

"A man could get used to this," he said.

She looked at him askance without saying a word.

"Just kidding," he said, walking up behind her and putting his arms around her very pregnant waist.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"Pretty boring, except that Marcus says we're going to have to start working on a medical malpractice case," he said.

"Oh? Who's the defendant?" she asked.

"Don't know yet."

"What's the accusation?" she asked.

"Operating while drunk."

"Well, that's a pretty serious charge, but not improbable," she said as she began serving up dinner.

The two sat down and ate and talked about the malpractice case and their days in general, and afterward, washed dishes together, and then retired to the living room.

Roger picked up a book off the coffee table. "_The Sheltering Sky?_"

"Yes. I've been meaning to read this for a while. I actually got some reading done today."

"That's good," he said with a smile as he put his arm around her.

"Did you come up with some names today?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," he said, producing a folded piece of paper from his shirt breast pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to her.

She read aloud, "Raymond, Ronald, Richard, Randolph, and Russell." She paused and thought for a bit. "Those are all very strong names. How did you come up with them?"

"Well, of course, you know that I'm a movie buff."

She replied, "Yes," though, she couldn't remember when they last went to one since both had been so busy.

He said, "I went with Raymond Massey, Ronald Colman, Richard Burton, Jane Randolph, and Jane Russell."

"Jane Randolph and Jane Russell?" she asked in a perplexed tone.

"Yeah. I thought some surnames would work for boys' names."

"That they do. Just curious about your choices," she said with a smirk.

"Well, I picked Jane Randolph because you look a bit like her," he said.

"And Jane Russell?" she asked.

He squeezed her tighter and gave her that giant Parsons smile.

"I'm sure your future son would like to know you named him after a curvaceous Hollywood starlet," she said.

"Yeah. You're probably right. I'll scratch that one. What do you think of the others?"

"I like Raymond, Ronald, and Richard equally. I'll let you choose."

"Hmmm. You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"You're in charge of the boys' names. I'll go with anything you decide," she said. "I don't know what could make it easier for you," she said with a smile.

"Well, did you come up with some names today between reading and snacking on Bon Bons?" he joked.

She cocked her head at him, "Yes. I came up with six names." She retrieved her list that she was using as a bookmark and read him the names. "Casey, Channing, Clarissa, Cora, Carrie, and Cady," she said and then waited for a response.

"Let me see that list," he said and she handed it to him. "Clarissa seems like a big name for a little baby," he said.

"You think so?"

"Yes." He continued, "and Channing? That sounds more like a surname."

"I kind of liked it because it was unique and meant 'wise.'"

"Casey's a boy's name, like the baseball player in the famous poem."

"What poem?" she asked.

He looked at her and said, "nevermind." "I like the other three: Cora, Carrie, and Cady. I think they'd sound the best with 'Joanne'." He continued, "How did you come up with those?"

She replied, "Cora means 'She knows' and I got that, like a few of the others, from the meanings of baby names book my grandmother gave me when we got married. The other two are named after suffragettes my mother admired: Carrie Catt and Elizabeth Cady Stanton."

"Ooh….I always admired Stanton."

"Me too," Cynthia replied.

"I suppose one good turn deserves another. I've given my opinion but I'll leave the name of our girl up to you," he said.

"Sounds fair," she replied.

"So, after the baby is born, what are your plans?"

"I don't have any set in stone for now." She continued, "I think I'd like to go back to work a year after the baby's born, but on a limited schedule. I'll think I'll be able to manage that."

"We'll probably need a nanny since I'll be working full time," Roger said.

"Yes. What I was thinking is I would work only a few full days a week or only half-days or something like that, at first, probably until he or she is school-aged," she said.

"Sounds reasonable," he said. "How would you feel if I wanted to start my private practice around that time too? I plan on staying at the hospital while you are on your limited schedule because it is such a stable position to have, but after, I'd like to start up my own practice."

"That sounds great. Of course, this all depends on various unknowns, such as, if we have another child between now and then," she said, looking at his face for a reaction.

He just smiled back at her and said, "Of course," and kissed her gently on the lips.


	12. Chapter 12

Over the rest of the summer, Cynthia began to show more and more and became more physically and intellectually taxed. She was more than ready to give birth. The baby was due the middle of October and it was October 2 and she had quit maintaining the house about a month prior. Roger was taking up most of the household duties in addition to his day job, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Can I get you anything," Roger asked Cynthia as she sat with her feet elevated on the coffee table.

"I'm fine, thanks." She patted the couch next to her. "Why don't you just sit next to me and relax. I'm getting tired just watching you," she said with a smile.

He flopped down on the couch, still wearing a kitchen apron. "Sounds good," he said as he put his arm around her shoulders.

"So, how was work?" she asked.

"We finalized the settlement on that medical malpractice case."

"Oh?"

"The hospital paid a tidy, undisclosed sum to the litigant, and the doctor in question had his hospital privileges removed. He will no longer be practicing at the hospital."

"Will he be working anywhere else?"

"Don't know. He didn't lose his license. At least, not yet. That involves a separate hearing with different parties. I won't be involved in that at all. I hope he does, though."

"Me too. I hope people realize that that kind of behavior doesn't represent the hospital staff at large," Cynthia said.

"Public Relations is working on damage control after this mess. But in the end, we can't control how people will see the hospital. Only time will tell. The hospital has an otherwise stellar reputation."

"True," she replied.

"Wanna watch some TV? I need to get my mind off work."

"Sure," she said.

The two watched television for about an hour and a half and they retired to bed. They had been sleeping for a couple of hours when Cynthia started having some powerful cramps and got up to go to the bathroom. Minutes later, Cynthia shouted, "Roger!"

Roger shot up in bed. "What? Is everything alright?" He got up and ran to the bathroom door and pushed it open.

Cynthia was standing in a puddle of fluid. "We need to get to the hospital. It's time," she said, holding herself under her belly.

"Okay," he said as he walked up to her and escorted her carefully from the bathroom. He threw on some pants and a shirt without tucking it in and dressed her in her bathrobe. They rushed through the house to the garage after he grabbed his car keys off the kitchen table. He placed Cynthia in the passenger side of their 1949 Buick Roadmaster and quickly got behind the wheel and drove her to the hospital.

They arrived at the Emergency Room at Hermann Hospital at 12:15 am. Dr. Jameson was the on-call obstetrician. Cynthia was rushed to delivery, leaving Roger behind to wait. He used the nurses' station phone in Emergency to call Cynthia's parents. Deborah had answered the phone and told him that she and Jacob would be there as soon as possible. Roger went to the waiting room and paced.

A nurse entered the waiting room. "Here. I thought you'd need this," she said as she gave him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," he said.

"You should really take a seat. These deliveries can take a long time," she said.

"My wife was due in two weeks. Is this too early for the baby to be born?" he asked in a worried tone.

"Oh, heavens, no. Babies are often born this early quite safely, and some are born two weeks late. Every pregnancy's different."

Roger, relieved, said, "Thanks."

"Don't worry, she'll be fine. Dr. Jameson is very good."

Roger alternatively sat and drank coffee and paced the room for the next hour, when Deborah and Jacob showed up to be there for their grandchild's delivery. The three of them waited together.

"I can't believe we're going to be grandparents, Jacob," Deborah said. "Seems like just yesterday I was giving birth to Cynthia."

"Yes. And you don't look like a grandmother, honik," Jacob said with a smile.

"I can't believe I'm going to be a father," Roger chimed in.

Jacob replied, "Exciting and frightening all at once, isn't it? Being responsible for another person's life?"

"C'mon, Jacob. Don't add more pressure to the boy," Deborah said shooting a look of consternation at him. "He's going to be great. Roger, you are going to be great at being a father."

"I hope so," Roger said. "Right now, I'm just worried about Cynthia getting through this."

"She will. Women have been doing this for thousands of years. She is very strong," she said.

"You're going to have your hands full with two grandchildren after January," Roger said.

"Yes. Two new babies in one year. We are very blessed!" she exclaimed.

"It's going to keep you busy, for sure," Roger replied.

"Are you hoping for a boy, son?" Jacob asked.

"Actually, I'd prefer a girl, but I'd be happy with a healthy baby of either sex," Roger replied.

Deborah smiled. "Yes. Another strong female for the Glass-Parsons family. That would be very good." Jacob rolled his eyes but smiled. "Have you picked out any names?"

"Yes. We have a few picked out for each. Cynthia will pick if it's a girl and I'll pick if it's a boy," Roger replied.

"What are the names?" Jacob asked.

"I think we're going to keep it a surprise. We're waiting on the baby to arrive before one is finally picked," Roger replied.

"You're keeping us in too much suspense," Deborah said. She paused and continued, "Robert and Janice won't tell us either."

"Don't worry. The possibilities are all great names," Roger replied.

"What are Cynthia's plans after the baby is born?" Deborah asked.

"She's been talking about wanting to go back to work on a limited schedule in about a year," Roger replied.

"Good. I know she is a great doctor and can help so many people. It's good for her future daughter, if she has one, to see her mother living out her dreams," Deborah said.

"I agree, and Cynthia thought the same thing," Roger said. "It will be good for a son too." Deborah nodded in the affirmative.

"When are your parents getting here, Roger?" Jacob asked.

"They'll be here the end of October. They will stay with us for a while to spend some time with the baby and help out," Roger said.

"Why so long?" Deborah asked.

"Dad has to work, and they said they wanted to give us some time with the baby alone for a while," Roger said.

"That's understandable," Jacob replied.


	13. Chapter 13

After another hour of waiting, the hospital had grown eerily quiet since it was a couple of hours before sunrise on October 3. There was very little foot traffic in the hallway and only one other person in the waiting room with the three waiting for Cynthia to deliver. Deborah had dozed off with her head on Jacob's shoulder, and he, in turn, was resting his head on hers with his eyes closed. Roger sat reading the newspaper from the day before until finally, around daybreak, he fell asleep with his head against the wall.

At about 8 am, the three were awakened by the busy staff moving through the hallways again. Roger got up and went to the nurses' station and asked the nurse, "Has there been any word on Cynthia Parsons?"

The nurse replied, "No. She was still in labor when I last checked about 15 minutes ago."

"Seven hours? Is that normal?" Roger said in a concerned tone.

"Oh, yes. Some women can be in labor for a day or more," she replied.

He stood there looking dumbfounded.

"Don't worry, Mr. Parsons. She's going to be fine. You'll be a father soon. Focus on that," she said.

He walked back to the waiting room where Jacob and Deborah were talking to each other.

"We were just talking about breakfast, Roger. Is there a cafeteria in this place?" Jacob asked.

"Yes," he said as he looked at his watch, "they should be open for breakfast now."

"Good. Let's go get something to eat. I'm famished," Deborah said.

"Any word on Cynthia?" Jacob asked.

"She's still in labor," Roger replied with a worried expression and looked at his watch again.

"Roger, she'll be fine. Let's go get some frishtik," Deborah said.

"Frishtik?" he asked.

"Breakfast," she replied. She put her arm in Jacob's and the three of them walked to the cafeteria to eat.

They returned to the waiting room after about an hour and continued waiting. Dr. Jameson came out to the waiting room around 10 am to talk to the family.

"Hey Roger," Dr. Jameson said.

"How's Cindy?" Roger asked.

"She's doing fine. Her contractions are on schedule and getting closer together. The birth is imminent. There have been no complications up to this point and I don't expect any," he said.

Deborah sighed and said, "Oh good."

"Do you know how long, doctor?" Jacob asked.

"Hard to say, but it shouldn't be long now. It might be a little longer because she has had caudal anesthesia, but I'll keep you updated. I'm going to go check on another patient, then I'll go back to check on Cynthia," he replied.

"Thanks," Roger said. Dr. Jameson headed down the maternity hallway and out of view.

Roger began pacing again and rubbing his hands through his hair. Deborah and Jacob sat down holding hands.

Eventually, Deborah said, "I wish you'd sit down, Roger. Your pacing isn't going to make the baby come faster and you're making me dizzy."

"Let the boy do what he wants, Deborah. Whatever makes him feel better," Jacob said.

Roger stopped pacing and sat down. "I'm more excited than scared right now. I'm going to be a father."

"Yes you are, dear," Deborah said.

Minutes later, the three saw Dr. Jameson head back to the delivery room where Cynthia was. Roger wrung his hands while sitting forward in his chair. They continued waiting for a while and still no word.

Around noon, a nurse came out to the waiting room. "Mr. Parsons?" she asked looking at Roger.

"Yes?" he said while standing quickly at attention.

"Your wife just had your baby a few minutes ago," she said.

"Really?" he asked with tears welling in his eyes. Deborah put her hands on his shoulders.

"Yes. She's getting settled into her room now and the baby is being cleaned and dressed," the nurse said.

"Can I come see her?"

"Yes, but in a few more minutes. I'll come get you when she's ready."

"Is it a boy or a girl," Roger asked eagerly.

"Your wife wanted to tell you personally," the nurse replied. "I'll be back in a few minutes to take you to see her."

"Thank you," Roger replied. He continued standing with Deborah and Jacob, both of which were as equally excited to soon see Cynthia and their new grandchild. The three stood for about ten minutes talking about what sorts of things were still needed for the new baby until the nurse returned.

"Okay, Mr. Parsons, you can come see your wife now," the nurse said.

"These are my wife's parents. Can they come too?" Roger asked.

"Yes. She asked if they were here," the nurse replied.

All of them walked through the double doors down the hallway to Cynthia's room. When the nurse opened the door, Roger walked in first, but the view of his wife was being blocked by another nurse who was leaning over Cynthia. He moved around to see what was going on and he saw that the nurse was handing a small bundle to his smiling, tired-looking, but beautiful wife. Deborah and Jacob followed closely behind. Deborah walked up and saw Cynthia and the baby and patted her left hand on Roger's back and gripped her husband's left hand with her right. They all stood reverently watching the scene as the nurse who handed Cynthia the baby, smiled at the group and left with the other nurse.

Cynthia said, "Roger, come over here and meet your new daughter."

Tears welled up in Roger's eyes, and without a word, he took his place next to Cynthia with the baby between them. He put his right arm around Cynthia's shoulders and just stared down at his new baby girl who already had a full head of dark hair. Roger gently stroked her hair, and Deborah and Jacob hugged each other tighter.

Cynthia broke the silence, "Well, I don't want to go through that again anytime soon, but this certainly makes it worth it." Everyone laughed. Deborah and Jacob moved closer to see the baby.

"She's beautiful, Cynthia," Deborah said.

"Yes she is. She looks just like you and your mother," Jacob said.

"I agree," Roger replied. "Beautiful, just beautiful," he said, still smiling the giant Parsons smile. He kissed Cynthia on the top of the head.

Cynthia said, "Mom, Dad…Roger and I have discussed many names for our baby, names that would honor the grandparents in one way or another, whether a boy or a girl. Dad, since we had a girl, you'll have to wait until the next one, if we have a boy."

Jacob, with his arm still around Deborah, replied, "That's alright, honik. I can wait."

"Mom, Roger and I decided that the middle name for our girl should be his mother's first name. Roger left our baby's first name up to me," Cynthia said.

Deborah stood by silently waiting and smiling.

"Everyone, I'd like you all to meet Cady Joanne Parsons, the newest member of the Glass-Parsons family," Cynthia said.

Deborah replied, "Cady, as in Elizabeth Cady Stanton?"

Cynthia replied, "Yes. I thought it was a strong name that would represent one of the heroines in your life that influenced you to raise such a strong and independent daughter and who will hopefully do the same for hers."

Deborah began to tear up, "That's lovely, Cynthia. It's certainly a fitting tribute." Jacob hugged her tighter still.

Roger repeated, "Cady Joanne Parsons….I like the sound of that." He tried more arrangements on for size. "Cady Parsons…. Cady Jo Parsons…. Hmm…. Cady Jo? Also makes her sound like a true Texan, now that I think about it. She'll fit right in," Roger said with a smile.

They all lingered with Cynthia and Cady, taking in the miraculousness of the moment. They stayed together in Cynthia's room for some time, taking turns holding little Cady and musing about their future and hers.


End file.
